


the season of 44 him and seventeen

by BluebarrieMuzzins



Series: Three's Company [5]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Awkward Boners, Boarding, Body Check, Domestic Fluff, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Inspired by Real Events, Interviews, M/M, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29214240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluebarrieMuzzins/pseuds/BluebarrieMuzzins
Summary: "Alright," Tyson said, smiling. "Have fun. Tell the Graves that I said hello."J.T. rolled his eyes and chuckled."You make it sound like they're friends of my mother’s and not people that are our friends and our ages.""Who said Ryan was your age? He's Dracula, don't you remember?""I'm leaving before you accuse Cale of being a literal vegetable."
Relationships: Alexander Kerfoot/Morgan Rielly, J. T. Compher/Tyson Jost, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Ryan Graves/Cale Makar, Tyson Jost/Alexander Kerfoot
Series: Three's Company [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142729
Kudos: 3





	the season of 44 him and seventeen

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hi! Here's part five!! I sorta had an idea about what I wanted to write this part about. That being Tyson dealing with his feeling towards Kerf. I got a better idea on how to handle that situation when Kerf got bodied into the boards during the game tonight (with no call. I'm still livid, luvs and it's 1:45 am) and decided to do a similar scenario in this universe since the timeline has already moved past the 2021 season. I also threw in a treat but you'll have to get that far to find out what it is; spoiling it would be no fun, now would it? I hope you guys enjoy this!
> 
> If you found this by Googling yourself, are in this yourself, or know someone in this, please click back. No harm was meant in the creation of this fic/series. It's fictional and meant as a way to help me cope with quarantine and the stresses that come with it. ~~(Though, if you're Kerfoot and somehow reading this, you're welcome for the treat. You deserved it after getting bodied that badly and then getting no call <3)~~
> 
> The title is inspired by a lyric in "19 You And Me" by Dan + Shay

"I'm taking Alexandria to visit Cale, Gravy, and Adam," J.T. said when he returned from his appointment with the team psychologist. "Dr. Sweeney thinks it would do me some good to socialize with people that aren't you, Mel, or Gabe outside of the rink."

  
  


Tyson nodded along, mouth too full of pasta to respond verbally. J.T. smiled at his fiance before he disappeared upstairs, presumably to go get Alexandria from her crib in the nursery.

  
  


J.T. returned ten minutes later, Alexandria in his arms and her diaper bag slung around his shoulders. He walked over to Tyson and gave him a short but sweet kiss on the lips. Tyson smiled when J.T. stepped back, a few pasta noodles falling from his mouth. J.T. snorted, rolling his eyes.

  
  


"I'll be back before she needs to go to bed for the night, alright?"

  
  


Tyson swallowed the pasta in his mouth before he nodded.

  
  


"Alright," Tyson said, smiling. "Have fun. Tell the Graves that I said hello."

  
  


J.T. rolled his eyes and chuckled.

  
  


"You make it sound like they're friends of my mother’s and not people that are our friends and our ages."

  
  


"Who said Ryan was your age? He's Dracula, don't you remember?"

  
  


"I'm leaving before you accuse Cale of being a literal vegetable."

  
  


Tyson opened his mouth but J.T. was already halfway out of the kitchen. He chuckled and turned back to his pasta, scooping some more into his mouth. He grabbed his Gatorade, taking a sip of it. He grimaced slightly at the weird combination of flavour that the beverage and pasta sauce made.

  
  


When Tyson finished up his dinner and was bringing his dishes into the kitchen, his phone chimed in his pocket. He dropped the dishes in the sink and told himself he would clean them later. He leaned against the counter and grabbed his phone, pulling up the notification that made his phone go off. He smiled when he saw that it was one reminding him that the Leafs game started in about fifteen minutes. Tyson knew now that the dishes could wait.

  
  


He made his way to the living room, turning the television on and flipping it to NHL Network before sliding into his recliner. He was pleased to see that the reporter on the broadcast was talking to Kerf. Tyson grabbed the remote and turned the volume up.

  
  


_"So, Mr. Alexander Kerfoot-Rielly," The reporter said, smiling, "how are you handling being married to the captain and having two kids with him?"_

  
  


_Kerf chuckled, adjusting the headset he was wearing. He glanced to his right (the screen's left); the camera panned that way and revealed Mo sitting five or six feet down the bench from Kerf. Mo moved down the bench until he was sitting next to his husband. He dropped his head against Kerf's shoulder._

  
  


_"It's not all that bad," Kerf said, turning his head and pressing a kiss to Mo's forehead. "As you can tell."_

  
  


_The reporter chuckled, smiling warmly at what had unfolded in front of her._

  
  


_"I'm glad it's worked out for you two," she said. "Onto some hockey talk now."_

  
  


Tyson turned the volume back down, essentially cutting off what the reporter was saying. He continued to look at the screen. Continued to watch Kerf and Mo cuddle each other on the Leafs bench. Continued to see how in love with each other they were. Tyson was beginning to think that he had imagined the whole Kerf thing from a few months ago. Beginning to think that his brain had put together those series of events out of shear stress of the fact that he was about to become a father for the first time. He didn't know how else to describe it after seeing how Kerf and Mo were acting on the bench.

  
  


Tyson must've zoned out because the next time he remembered looking at the television, the game had started. He shifted in his recliner, trying to find a comfortable position to watch the game from. He gave up after a few minutes, satisfied that he would be unsatisfied in that attempt.

  
  


When he focused back on the television, the broadcast was zeroed in on the Leafs forecheck as they entered the Panthers zone. Kerf was the one with the puck; he was skating it along with the sideboards when he was suddenly bodied into said sideboards by Huberdeau. One of the referees raised his arm and blew his whistle as soon as one of the Panthers touched the puck.

  
  


Tyson felt overwhelmed with emotions as he watched Kerf skate off of the ice. He felt anger towards Jonathan Huberdeau for even _thinking_ it was a good idea to body that hit on Kerf. He felt concerned for Kerf's well-being because the hit looked like it had been _nasty._ He felt something else, too. He felt the need to hold Kerf and tell him that everything would be alright. Tyson swallowed thickly; he didn't want to think about that too much because he wasn't sure if he was ready for the consequences.

  
  


After taking a few moments to gather himself, Tyson focused back on the television. The broadcast was trained on Kerf on the Leafs bench and Tyson noticed that his best friend had a split lip. There were little droplets of blood staining his beard; it was glistening in the arena lights.

  
  


Tyson shifted uncomfortably in his recliner as he watched Kerf take his hand out of his glove and wipe away the blood and sweat on his face. He effortlessly laughed along to something Mo was saying beside him, seemingly forgetting that he had just been bodied into the sideboards by Huberdeau.

  
  


The broadcast switched back to the rink feed when Kerf jumped over the boards, joining the powerplay rush up the ice. He skated effortlessly through Ekblad and Yandle, using his small size to his advantage. When he was in front of the net, Willy somehow managed to connect the puck to Kerf's stick through the sea of bodies. Kerf moved right; Montembeault bit, following Kerf to that side of his crease. Kerf stopped, reversed, and shot the puck up and over Montembeault's blocker.

  
  


Tyson smiled as he watched the Leafs on the ice swarm Kerf, giving him much deserved head pats and hugs. When the broadcast showed a feed of Kerf's face, he was smiling and bouncing his head along to the Leafs goal music as he skated down the bench for his fist bumps.

  
  


Heat flared in Tyson's cheeks and he had to look away from the television. He dropped his head, looking at his hands on his thighs. His entire body almost ceased its functions when he caught a glimpse of his lap.

  
  


The material around his crotch was strained, wrinkling a little. Tyson swallowed thickly and dropped his head against the back of the recliner seat.

  
  
He was so _fucked_.

**Author's Note:**

> Look at me. Out here creating the Sam Montembeault tag. I feel accomplished, honestly. I have the P O W E R.


End file.
